


The Dynamic Duo

by StrictlyFromCorn (orphan_account)



Category: 20th Century CE RPF, Astaire/Rogers RPF, Classic Hollywood - Fandom, Composers - Fandom, Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers Movies
Genre: Fluffy, Gen, composers, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/StrictlyFromCorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George and Ira Gershwin are in the process of composing and writing "They Can't Take That Away From Me" in an RKO rehearsal room in Hollywood. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers barge in, and it's plain that the two of them have had too much to drink. Short fluffy drabble. Fred/Ginger is implied but very slightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dynamic Duo

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this as something for George to be totally cute in (I love him!) and I only wanted cameos from Fred and Ginger, but I enjoy writing them being drunk so much! :D I might write another one with just George! :)

"How's that sound?" The composer asked as he played a few notes on the piano. Most people would be able to recognize George Gershwin - the person who had orchestrated tunes like "Rhapsody in Blue" and "An American in Paris". He had a pipe in his mouth, as usual, since he loved to combine smoking and composing. Two of the things he did best, he always said.

"I dunno, George." Behind the composer was his brother, the equally illustrious Ira Gershwin. He was the one that wrote lyrics to all of George's compositions. "Try something else." He had a notepad and a pencil clutched firmly in each hand, but so far, he hadn't come up with any lyrics.

George shrugged silently and started to play a few random notes on the piano. Earlier on, he had been complaining about how hot California's weather was, compared to New York, and there he was, slouched over the piano, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a fan to guard against what he called the "oppressive heat". He played two notes on the piano, and he was about to get up and suggest that they continue working later on when Ira got that look on his face. The look when he got good ideas.

"George, if you can give me two more notes on that, I can give you 'the way you wear your hat'." He scribbled those words down on the notepad, suddenly alert. Again, without saying anything, George played some notes, and that only served to rouse his brother further. "Okay, I have 'the way you wear your hat', and 'the way you', uh, 'the way you... sip your tea'!" Ira suddenly declared, seeing the cold cup of tea that was sitting on the table.

"Now we've got something!" George almost shouted from his excitement. Once they latched onto an idea, the rest of the songwriting and composing was easy. "The way you sip your tea." He repeated, playing those notes on the piano. However, their progress was interrupted when the door to the rehearsal room was opened.

"What in the name of-" Ira cut himself off as he recognized the two people that had entered the room. It was none other than Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, the two stars of the movie that they were composing for. They walked in, arms linked and hands held, and the songwriter could tell at once that they had both been drinking.

"Hello, George. Hello, Ira." Fred began, his words slightly slurred. Oh, boy. Neither of the brothers had ever seen him even slightly inebriated, let alone almost drunk, and definitely not at that hour of the afternoon. "We just... came in to check on how you all were... doing." He hesitated on the last word, almost as if he had to search his memory for it. The smile on the dancer's face obviously wasn't because of the presence of George and Ira. Maybe it was because he was holding Ginger's hand. But George could have bet that the drinks were the reason behind that silly grin.

"We're doing, uh... just fine, Freddie." The composer stammered, wondering what to do in such a situation. He was about to say "you don't look so good yourself", but he restrained himself. "Uh, hello, Ginger." He gave a nod in her direction.

"George! Ira! It's great to... to see you all again." Her voice was slurred too, although not as much as Fred's. She had a broad smile on her face and it seemed to Ira that she was leaning against her dancing partner for support. Or, was it him, leaning against Ginger, in order to stand up straight?

"So, how about that song?" Fred asked in a needlessly loud voice as he staggered forward a few steps. Still holding onto his arm, Ginger started walking forward in her high heels like they were stilts. There was no doubt now that they were _both_ drunk.

"Oh, we just got the first few measures. Do you want to hear it?" George knew that they probably wouldn't remember it the next day, and frankly, he was starting to get amused by the way they behaved while drunk. Without waiting for a reply, he played the first few bars of music that he had composed.

"George- _d_ at's... _d_ at's swell." Again, Fred slurred his words, unable to pronounce "th", and almost stumbled as he made his way to where the composer was sitting. He leaned against the side of the upright piano, almost falling sideways, but catching himself on time. "Dat's swell. Y'know, you're the best composer _d_ at... _d_ at we could ask for." The dancer could barely keep himself standing straight. "And as for you, Ira, you're swell too." Fred took a few steps in Ira's direction.

"We were gonna ask you all-" Ginger interrupted him loudly as she fell back into a chair. "Do you all wanna go out for a drink? You know, get away from all of this." She stopped as her dancing partner cast a look in her direction. "What? Whaddid I do?" She asked.

"I was gonna ask 'em!" He responded, walking unsteadily towards her.

"Oh, you're just sore because I asked first!" It was just like a bunch of kids in elementary school squabbling over who got the last cookie.

"Eh." George stood up, trying to end the argument. "Either way, we, uh, we can't go." He cast a side glance at his brother. "We've got a lot of work to do tonight, and I think... you all will enjoy it more without us." The composer responded.

Fred looked like he was going to argue that notion, but Ginger beat him to saying something. "All right, then. Good luck with your song." She stood up, almost falling forward, but Fred stepped forward to steady her. Taking her hand again, the two of them walked out of the room - with a lot of staggering - and she had to come back to close the door after them.

"Say, how do you like that? The two of them drunk at this hour - weren't they supposed to have a read-through today or something?" Ira asked, as soon as they were gone.

"Oh, I dunno, I saw Mark Sandrich carting around a big bottle of that Irish whiskey today. They probably finished the read-through early, and I guess they had too many." George scratched a spot behind his ear, a bit puzzled. "But I don't know how they convinced Freddie to drink so much." He knew for a fact that his old friend didn't drink too much, forget drinking till _that_ point.

"Well, we've got a song to work on." The lyricist declared, picking up his notepad and pencil and trying to get back on track. "You know, if you repeat that melody three times, I have, 'The way you wear your hat / The way you sip your tea / The memory of all that'." Ira addressed his brother thoughtfully.

"After that, maybe we could use this." George played another collection of notes on the piano, and then looked to the right for his brother's approval.

"Yeah! Yeah, that's good!" Ira was getting excited again. And the two brothers would continue that way, for the rest of the night, working tirelessly at the song. Once you got the Gershwin brothers started on something, they couldn't be stopped.

They _were_ the called the "dynamic duo" for a reason.


End file.
